Oakley Hall - s/t
(Bulb)
Whenever someone plays country music there is usually a question of "authenticity" that arises almost immediately. When working outside the usual context of a style of music that's as weighed down with cultural baggage as country music it practically begs the question of sincerity. In the case of Oakley Hall the context is Brooklyn, Bulb Records, and the noise-rock band Oneida. These are far from the things that come to mind when I think of good country music and, admittedly, the first thing I thought as I read the accompanying promotional material was, "Oh, give me a break." Happily, by the time I'd made it to "Foolish Heart," the third track on Oakley Hall's debut album, the music had taken precedence over any suspicion or extra-musical polemics that had arisen before I pressed play.
Former Oneida member Papa Crazee's insanely distorted guitar and keyboards make the tagging of Oakley Hall as "psych-country" practically inevitable but, in reality Oakley Hall is less a meeting of two styles than one genre gone slightly cockeyed. All the trappings of a country record are here: rousing and drunken honky-tonk ("Lookout Below," "Ridin the Dog"), gorgeous and understated Southern ballads ("You Wouldn't Believe...," "Tuscaloosa") and, of course, plenty of lyrics about heartbreak. Holding strong at eight members Oakley Hall has the same collective, brotherly feeling as a great bluegrass or string band and, as the album was recorded completely live in a Brooklyn loading dock, you can hear the excitement and camaraderie inherent in getting that many friends together at the same time. There seems to be a never-ending list of people willing to testify to Oakley Hall being one of the best live acts in New York City right now. I'm told that the rowdy show practically implies audience participation without the band having to do any coercing beyond simply playing their songs. While I have yet to behold Oakley Hall live myself, with an album so full of terrific songs I have no trouble believing that seeing these men and women in action is nothing short of a small miracle.
When I was a kid my family would often go backpacking in the Smoky Mountains near Pigeon Forge, TN. When we weren't hiking we would sometimes go to Pigeon Forge, a tourist trap of a city filled with third-rate museums, amusement parks, junk shops, and arcades. The presence of Dollywood alone makes it one of the gaudiest places on earth, but despite its innate cheesiness Pigeon Forge has a terrific energy and excitement that's somehow as invigorating as New York City while remaining as charming and welcoming as the Gatlinburg Cracker Barrel on a Sunday morning. Likewise, refrains like "I'll stay at the bar just a little bit longer" and "Ridin' the dog/just singin' my song" have enormous potential to come off sounding as stale as the blues-rock coming from every third bar on 6th Street here in Austin, but Oakley Hall has the natural charm and sensibility required to make it sound as though they invented it. Oakley Hall is as unashamedly hokey as the Old West novelist from which the band took their name but, just like those novels, this ragtag bunch of musicians are a damn good time.
|
